Shala (38 page)

T
he results were to be announced at ten, but I got ready much earlier and walked merrily through the paddy fields. It was time for the fields to be ploughed. Shankar’s father would be there; I could chat with him for a while. But I was in for a surprise when I reached the paddy fields. Shankar’s father was there with several other men, but they were not ploughing. Instead, I saw a truck dumping heaps of gravel and sand. Men and women worked with shovels to dig up huge square blocks and there were white lines in the field, marking squares and rectangles. A man wearing a cloth cap was taking some sort of measurement with a metal tape.

I stood there dumbfounded. When Shankar’s father came near me, I asked, ‘Kaka, what’s up? Won’t you be planting rice this time?’

‘Rice? No rice any more,’ he said, throwing up his hands. ‘Now we are building chawls, you know.’

I stood there for a while, but clearly he was busy. There was a fine dust in the air as the truck dumped the gravel. Shankar’s father was not wearing his usual striped shorts. He had put on a white pyjama and kurta today. Someone called for him from the other end. I paused near my favourite rock for a while and then walked on.

T
he playground was basking in bright sunshine. All the boys—Phawdya, Surya, Chitre, Harishchandra and others—stood outside. I quickly scanned the group but could not spot Shirodkar. We stood around, chatting, until Ganoba rang the bell and we walked into our class. I scanned the group again. Most of the girls were present, except Shirodkar.

Paranjpe ma’am walked in with a register and the bundle of report cards. My chest began to pound. I was sure everyone else too was nervous, for an eerie silence descended on the class.

Ma’am engaged us in some small talk as usual before handing over the results—you guys have not attempted the papers well enough; you need to be more serious next year; and so on and so forth. But no one seemed to be in the mood to listen to her. We waited with bated breath.

Ma’am took out her register and untied the bundle of report cards. They were arranged in the usual alphabetical order—boys first and then girls. But before distributing the report cards, she announced the top five ranks. I could not believe my ears—I had come fifth! Bibikar stood first, followed by Ghasu Gokhale, Surve, Mirikar and then myself. Ma’am taught us Marathi and hence specifically mentioned that I had got the highest marks in her subject.

She then read out the results. Chitre had stood eleventh while Bhaishetye had managed to pass. Misal too had passed but Surya had failed, along with Phawdya. Santya had managed to pass but Harishchandra had not. Two other students had failed.

Ma’am took out the girls’ list after that. My mind was numb while my chest continued to pound. The birdies had passed as expected and so had Ambekar. Sukdi had failed, along with Sundri. Ma’am announced Shirodkar’s name and my heart leapt up. She had secured the thirteenth rank. Ma’am looked around, holding her report card.

‘She’s absent, ma’am,’ Mande shouted. ‘Her father got transferred. He said he will come and collect the report card later.’

My mind went blank, as if someone had hit me on the head. I sat there transfixed. My eyes were open, but I could see nothing. I could hear nothing. Ma’am was announcing a few details related to the next year, the names of teachers, etc. The girls were making a din, chattering away. But our group was silent. Phawdya sat there with his head in his hands. Chitre was silent. Surya was on the verge of tears.

We left the classroom in the same state of numbness, each one lost in thought. The boys and girls were saying their goodbyes. ‘Joshi, congratulations. I need to be careful about you next year!’ Bibikar called out. I did not reply. Surya and Harishchandra began to walk away without saying a word to anyone. Santya joined them. Chitre and Phawdya took the main road while I walked back through the paddy fields. I managed to reach the rocks and then my legs gave way. I plonked down on my rock.

T
he sun burnt brightly. The fields looked barren and dry. Shankar’s father was nowhere to be seen, but the other men continued working. A huge mound of gravel stood in one corner while another truck made its way slowly into the field, leaving behind a trail of dust. The fields resounded with the growl of the engine struggling under its load.

I sat there stunned for a long time. Slowly things started dawning on me. Her father must have got transferred while we were away to Naru mama’s wedding; or perhaps a little earlier. They must have decided to move houses after the exams got over, but I hadn’t met her, so I did not get to know. I was desperate to tell her that I was innocent and had nothing to do with that episode between Kevda and Surya. But there was no way I could tell her now. I had no idea where she was.

I felt like sprinting across to Mande’s house to ask her. Where had she gone? To which town? I was sure Mande would have her address. Else Juvekar was sure to have it. I could continue to be in touch through letters. I would join college here. She would join hers wherever she was. And then one day…

But I knew that this was not to happen. Nothing of this sort ever happens. Everything was over now. My fears, which I had been trying to stifle for a long time, were turning out to be true. I had always dreaded this. I somehow knew that one day it would all slip out of my hands. And that’s exactly what had happened.

I wanted to wail out loud and let the tears wash it all away. That would have helped. But not a teardrop escaped my eyes. Everything had dried up—my heart felt barren, hard and empty.

I sat there for a long time. Then reality seeped into me. The results had been announced. Surya and Phawdya had failed. Surya would have to repeat the class while Phawdya would have to leave school. Chitre would probably move to Bandra. We would never assemble again for an adda in the building next year. Bendre ma’am would be there to teach us next year and so would Appa, Halbe and Kendalkar. But Zende sir would not be there. Manjrekar sir had left long ago. We had been allotted a classroom without a view. I would not be able to see the playground or the hills beyond Sonarpada. Kaduskar sir’s tuition would begin tomorrow. The Emergency continued as usual, but Vijay and KT were not around. Naru mama had got married. No more chess matches in our courtyard every evening. They were building chawls in the fields. No more water-filled paddy fields. The rest of the wide world around me remained as before—but Shirodkar was lost, unknown to me in the vast expanse somewhere.

School days were over. All that remained was a dreadful year called Class Ten.

Post Script

Insights Interviews & More...

About the Writer and His Body of Work
Vikrant Pande

My Conversations with Milind Bokil

Vikrant Pande

On Translating
Shala

Vikrant Pande

About the Writer and His Body of Work
Vikrant Pande

Milind Bokil (born 1960) is one of the most important Marathi writers today. A sociologist by profession, Bokil has written extensively on rural and tribal communities and developmental issues related to them. His novels urge the reader to look for a deeper meaning in life. His ability to present personal emotions and social relationships without sacrificing the craft of writing makes him a popular writer.

Reared in a middle-class family, Bokil spent his childhood in a suburban town near Mumbai and studied in a commonplace Marathi school. This experience provided the material for his much acclaimed novel
Shala
(
meaning ‘school’). Bokil has a graduate degree in electronics and radio engineering, but he left the field after doing a couple of jobs, which were not to his liking. During this time, he was strongly influenced by the Sampoorna Kranti movement led by Jayprakash Narayan in the mid-seventies. . The students’ and youth movement led by the veteran freedom-fighter was aimed at eradicating corruption and reforming Indian polity and society. The Indira Gandhi-led Congress government tried to crush the agitation by imposing internal emergency, but it was overthrown in 1977 by a coalition of opposition parties. As a result of this awakening, many Indian youths and professionals left their vocations to pursue social reconstruction and development. Bokil too left his job to work as a volunteer in a tribal development project in the coastal area of Maharashtra. The echoes of internal emergency and people’s resistance are evident in
Shala
.

Bokil’s writing career began in 1981 with the publication of a short story based on his experiences in the industrial sector. It was titled ‘Punha Surya, Punha Prakash’ and was published in February, 1981. It was a hair-raising tale about an engineer caught in a chemical tank. After that, he wrote about a dozen short stories, which were published in leading Marathi periodicals. His first book
Udakachiya Arti,
a collection of short stories, was published in 1994. The book derives its title from a much acclaimed story included in the book. It is a story about the emotional ordeal of a woman who is an anti-dam activist, and has been made into a short-film by the same name. The story earned the Katha Prize in 1992 and its English translation, ‘Thirsting for Water’, was included in Katha Prize Stories Vol. II published by Katha, New Delhi. Other stories in the collection also centre around the life and emotional experiences of social activists torn between personal existence and social priorities.

Bokil’s themes and sensibilities were new to Marathi literature when he started writing. However, he later moved on to analyzing personal relationships. His second book of short stories,
Zen Garden
(2000), illustrates the shift. Here, Bokil appears to be more concerned with the feelings and emotional struggles of men and women, individually as well as in relationships. His style becomes subtle, and he focuses on the artistic balances implicit in a work of art.

Although his previous works were well received, Bokil became popular with his novel
Shala
. Running into several editions since its publication,
Shala
evokes a compelling sense of nostalgia, and has been popular across generations of Marathi readership. It has twice been adapted into films;
Humne Jeena Seekh Liya
(Hindi) and
Shala
(Marathi). The Marathi
adaptation
won the Silver Lotus Award at the
 
59th National Film Awards
 
in the
 
Best Feature Film in Marathi
 
category. A theatre adaptation of the novel has appeared as a two-act play called
Ga Ma Bha Na
, and has run for more than a hundred and fifty performances.

Bokil’s novella
Ekam
(2008) is the story of a writer who explores the meaning of solitude in her life against the backdrop of her family, friends, readers and the society at large. Bokil’s treatment of the subject is both emotionally disturbing and enriching. In
Samudra
(2009), Bokil takes up the strains and stresses of a marital relationship against the background of a sea resort. An unconventional and refreshing novel, it has been translated into Hindi as
Samandar
.

Runn/Durg
, published in 2011, is a compilation of two novellas, both of which revolve around the self-realization of women.
Runn
portrays the realization of the latent potential of a divorced woman who is involved in an earthquake relief operation. The novel, cast against the backdrop of an Indian desert, deftly combines environmental imagery with human emotions.
Durg
is the story of a young woman who experiences self-liberation atop a mountainous fort. The rugged, elevated setting is portrayed vividly by Bokil and subtly merged with the protagonist’s stream of consciousness. In both the novels, the environmental and experiential aspects of the plot blend smoothly and create a feeling of oneness. This has been a distinguishing feature of Bokil’s writing and is visible in all his works.

Bokil’s professional experience and concerns are directly reflected in his non-fiction and sociological works.
Samudraparche Samaj
(2000) is a collection of sociological travelogues. Here, Bokil writes about societies abroad from a comparative sociology perspective. There is an element of travel writing in it, but Bokil is primarily concerned with social issues. In “Mabuhai Ifugao’, he sketches the plight of the indigenous people in the Mindanao province of Philippines, whereas in ‘Costa Rica’, he describes the trade-off between development and environmental conservation. In ‘Amsterdam’, he takes a look at the so called ‘red light’ area and analyzes sex trafficking in Europe. This analysis is further carried on in ‘Amazing Thailand’. Bokil’s concern for the deprived and marginalized are reflected in his writing about the dalits in Japan and the blacks in Zimbabwe.

Janache Anubhav Pusata
(2000) is a collection of articles on people, natural resources and livelihood linkages. Here Bokil studies the developmental issues India is facing, with respect to local communities negotiating with the changing environmental and socio-political situation in the wake of globalization. While Bokil does not compromise with analytical rigour, the spotlight is always on the disadvantaged sections like dalits, tribal people, cowherds, fishermen, small farmers and women.

A detailed socio-anthropological account of a tribal community is found in Bokil’s
Katkari: Vikas Ki Visthapan
published in 2006. Bokil studies the plight of a so-called primitive tribal community called Katkari living in the hilly, coastal area of Maharashtra. Bokil traces the community’s history, analyzing how it lost its traditional occupation of extracting catechu due to colonial laws, and describes how at present they are facing the danger of displacement from their traditional abode. He makes a strong case for the development of this community by highlighting the tenacity, tolerance and developmental aspirations of its members. This book represents Bokil’s continuous association with tribal communities and his deep concern regarding their well-being. Another book in the same genre is
Gosht Mendha Gawachi
, wherein Bokil documents the heroic struggle of a small Gond village in the Gadchiroli district of Maharashtra in acquiring community rights over surrounding forests and ushering a process of self-governance.

Bokil has co-authored
Wataani Mukkam
(2009) along with three other Marathi writers—Asha Bage, Bharat Sasne and Saniya. These four contemporary Marathi writers jointly undertook an innovative venture for literary discourse. They discuss around forty questions about life, literature and society, and present a comprehensive and interesting symposium for students, readers and critics.

Bokil has also compiled and edited the works of two important figures. The first is
UdakChalwaweUkti
(2003), a collection of articles by Vilasrao Salunkhe, the technocrat crusader of equitable distribution of water and initiator of the
Pani Panchayat
movement. The second one is a collection of articles by Vinoba Bhave, the luminary disciple of Mahatma Gandhi and the world-famous originator of
Bhoodan
Movement. This compilation is titled
GyanTeSangtoPunha
(2004) and makes available Vinoba Bhave’s rich social, political and spiritual thought in an easy to read language.

Coming back to fiction, his latest novel
Gawatya
tells the story of
a young man from Mumbai who is not happy with his job and life, and in his quest for peace and knowledge goes to work in a Gandhian ashram in a remote tribal area, where the mountain ’Gawatya’ is his constant companion. He meets many individuals and communities, and through this interaction, an understanding dawns on him. His ultimate realization is the sense of connectedness with his own self and his surroundings. He also understands the meaning of love and its unity with knowledge.

My Conversations with Milind Bokil
Vikrant Pande

I had many a conversation and exchange of notes with Milind Bokil before he agreed that I was the right person to take up the task of translating
Shala
. I was curious to know how he got into writing working, as he was, in the area of social development.
‘Since my childhood, I knew that I was going to be a writer or rather I
was
a writer,’ he says. ‘I do not know how that feeling arose in me, but it has been part of my consciousness right from the beginning. I used to read a lot. We didn’t have many books at home; we were a humble middle-class family, but our town had a good municipal library. I used to virtually go there every day and had read most of the important books in Marathi literature by the time I passed matriculation. I think that was a decisive influence. Reading taught me how to write, and I strongly believe that books are food, clothing and shelter for a writer. Being and becoming a writer, both are valid processes.’

There are several literary giants in Marathi and it is easy to be influenced by them. I asked Milind if he followed in the footsteps of any writer. He likes the short stories published in the 1940’s and the ’50s, and his favourites are Gangadhar Gadgil and Vyankatesh Madgular. ‘
Gadgil portrayed the parochial, chawl-dwelling, middle-class ethos of Mumbai whereas Madgulkar painted the rustic, rural communities and individual characters. His
Banagarwadi
, the tale of a shepherd community, has had a lasting impact on me,’ Milind says. The other authors who have influenced him are G.A. Kulkarni, who expanded the horizons of the Marathi short story by exhibiting the unhappiness and the disappointments underlying the lives of the middle-class. ‘I love G.N. Dandekar for his simple and humane portrayal of his subjects, Bhalchandra Nemade for his existential treatment and C.T. Khanolkar for his passionate and lyrical depiction of Konkani life,’ he adds. Some of the Marathi poets like Mardhekar, Anil, Arati Prabhu and Narayan Surve are also Bokil’s favourites.

Most authors are shaped by the times they grow up in, the social milieu around them. Milind Bokil says, he was strongly attracted to Jayprakash Narayan and his appeal to the youth. He joined the Chhatra Yuva Sangharsh
Vahini founded by JP. Bokil was also going through an existential crisis, working in the electronics industry but getting disenchanted with it. Then he quit and went to work as a volunteer in the tribal area of Western Ghats. ‘We can see glimpses of the Emergency in
Shala
while in
Gawatya
, the protagonist leaves a Mumbai job to work in the tribal areas of Maharashtra searching for his own self. Bokil’s love for sociology and rural development led him to do a Ph.D in Development Sociology and become a full-time sociologist. All these experiences colour his writing. ‘From a writer’s point of view, these things are important. They break the parochial boundaries, change your worldview, and that shift is reflected in your writing. If as a writer you are not bogged down by isms and philosophies, it becomes a very liberating process. JP movement instilled caste and gender equality in our minds. It also put me in touch with the deprived sections of society like dalits, adiwasis and nomadic communities. And that was a very humbling experience. Thirdly, I became associated with grassroots activists and their organizations committed to social change. Their world then began to appear in my stories. If I had to summarize the journey in a single phrase, I would say “enrichment of worldview”. I believe writers are recognized not just by their content and style but also by their worldviews,’ Bokil says.

Shala
is the story of adolescence. I was curious whether he had a particular view which he wanted to portray. ‘One doesn’t write fiction to impress any particular point of view upon the readers. The view emanates from the work,’ he says. ‘So in this case, the point of view is the search for love. Not just the protagonist but most of the characters in the novel are searching for love. I believe it is a primary human need but not always satisfied. During adolescence, this need assumes an altogether different dimension. Children are in search of love and affection, but when they become adolescents they realize that they also can give love. And this feeling comes naturally with biological changes in the body. Unfortunately our society doesn’t respect this change, which is the natural scheme of things.Moreover, school has become a severe and competitive institution and the morals of our caste-based society are still very constricting. We do not raise our children in a liberal atmosphere. The situation might be changing in metropolitan areas, but in villages and smaller towns it is still suffocating. And this causes considerable psychological and social stress,’ the author says.